“This view is, like, killer,” I overheard a 20-something say to his companions during a recent visit to Telluride. We had just walked by each other on the main street of this southwestern Colorado mountain town, wedged into a box canyon. The group was looking toward the vertiginous cliffs high above, where Ingram Falls plunged over a notch in the rock; below the falls, a thread of water followed a steep, diagonal runnel, glinting silver, like the precious metal miners once sought here. The comment was an understatement.